


cigarette daydreams

by sherlaik



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Minor Adam/Shiro (Voltron), No Homophobia, Pining Keith (Voltron), SO MUCH FLUFF, Slow Burn, Smoking, not in this household
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-06-19 03:18:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15501144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlaik/pseuds/sherlaik
Summary: “I don’t know why I started.”“I’m sorry, what?”“Smoking. I don’t know why I started.” He takes a long drag. “Boredom I guess. Nothing ever happens here, just- same ol’ same ol’.” Keith speaks while exhaling smoke and Lance takes it as a sign of expertise.“Believe it or not, I miss that. The city can be too hectic sometimes.” He flicks his cigarette.“Is that why you’re here?” Keith turns to look at him. His eyes shine under the fluorescent light and his skin looks even paler. Does the sun run away from him?Lance looks at the drops of rain dripping from the canopy. Should he tell him? It’s not like he cares anyway, he’s probably just curious. Plus, it would be nice having someone to talk to and not have to pretend.“I mean, sort of? I kind of hate my job.” he scrunches up his nose.“So quit.” Keith shrugs.Lance shakes his head, amused at how much Keith hasn’t actually changed. “It’s not that simple.”Keith takes another drag. “If you say so.”(lance goes back to his hometown in an attempt to get his life together. he gets more than that. or maybe just that.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi i’m just here to warn you that this is my first fanfic ever and i am Unsure so it might be forever changing. also english is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, i’m sorry. i would actually really appreciate it if you could point them out to me cause i’m trying to get better. i come up with stuff as i go so literally anything could happen. we’ll see. enjoy!
> 
> (inspired-ish by the song cigarette daydreams by cage the elephant)

It’s an ordinary day for Lance McClain. He gets out of bed and doesn’t bother changing. He walks lazily to the kitchen, almost without even looking. He opens a cabinet and pulls out a box of his favorite cereal. He opens the cabinet next to it and pulls out his favorite bowl. He pours his favorite cereal into his favorite bowl with a loud and exaggerated yawn. He hums contently, pleased with the amount of cereal that came out of the box. He takes a step to the side and is now facing the fridge. He opens it and shivers a little when the cold air hits him. He scans the messy interior, looking for his favorite chocolate milk. He spots the carton behind the soup leftovers from yesterday. He moves the plastic container and reaches for the milk. He unscrews the cap, feeling warm and fuzzy with anticipation. He tilts the carton and pours it into his cereal. Yes, it’s an ordinary day for Lance McClain.

He is sitting in front of his small TV, feet on the coffee table and back pressed against the cushions. An empty bowl lies right next to his elbow. He stares at the screen, barely registering anything that’s happening in the movie. He’s watched it a million times anyway.

 //

Lance McClain is focused on how the pencil swings from side to side. His eyes follow the lead until they’re forced to divert their attention to the stack of papers that is placed in front of him

He looks up and finds Allura staring down at him. She’s so pretty with her silver hair up in a sleek ponytail and her cat eye glasses. Lance feels heat in his cheeks.

Lance looks at her deadpan “Kill me please?”

“These are pretty important, Lance.” She says sternly and then whispers, her look softening, “some may even say _promotion worthy_ , but you didn’t hear that from me.” She walks away, still looking at Lance with a knowing smile until she greets someone else from the company and sparks up a conversation.

He stares at the endless pile of papers and they stare back at him. _It’s bittersweet_ is what he tells himself, but really it’s just bitter.

Lance takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves his office. He takes the elevator to the first floor and quivers when he gets out of the building and feels the winter weather. His thumb falls easily on the first of two contacts in his favorites list and he puts the phone to his ear. A burning sensation starts spreading throughout his body and without realizing it he bites his nails. It goes straight to voicemail.

“Fuck.”

//

Lance McClain is staring at his bedroom ceiling, wondering when it all went to shit. His tie is strangling him, and he pulls violently at it, loosening it. There are brief moments when he thinks there’s an actual earthquake happening in his room. He feels like throwing up from the dizziness. Somehow, he manages to find his phone in his pocket without standing up. And he feels like he is a little psychic because the phone screen lights up right when he pulls it out.

“Hunnnk, my man! What gives?”

“You called earlier- are you drunk?” Lance giggles at the accusation.

“Mayyybe.” There are background voices on the other line. _Hunk must be at the restaurant,_ Lance thinks.

“Oh my god you are. Alright, where are you? How much have you had?” Lance can tell that Hunk is getting in his car by the clinking sound of his keys and the click of the car door. He smiles because he knows his best friend is rushing to come to him.

“Hunky ‘m just home. Had some rumm. Calm your titties.” He doesn’t exactly respond to Hunk’s question because he truly doesn’t know how much alcohol is in his system, he didn’t count the drinks. 

Hunk says, “I’m coming over” and he hangs up. Or at least that’s what Lance thinks he said. He can’t be too sure.

Lance’s drunk arm falls lifeless to his side after the call ends. He misses his glow in the dark stars from his old room, he decides. He misses his old house, he misses his family, he misses having no worries at all and practically living in the beach. Now the city where he lives doesn’t even have a shore.

For the next 15 minutes, Lance wonders what to do and never actually does anything aside from staring at his ceiling until he feels weight suddenly drop on his chest. He struggles to lift his head just slightly and finds his cat staring at him. She immediately starts purring, just from being close to Lance. His cat really does love him.

“Oh no, Blue. Don’t look at me, ‘m a bad example. Never drink to avoid your problems, kiddo.” Blue finds a comfortable position and lays down, putting her head in the crook of Lance’s neck. “So cute, ‘m weak.”

When the doorbell rings he curses his legs for feeling so weak and wobbly. Apologizing profusely to Blue, he lifts her up and lays her on the bed slowly and gently. He practically rolls to the edge of the bed and falls to the floor like a frog. Needless to say, he nearly slams his face against the cold, hard surface. Using the wall for support, he  manages to stand up. The earthquake sensation is back and he closes his eyes in hopes that it will go away. He can almost hear his mom telling him to not touch the white walls. _Your hands are dirty, Lance._

By the time he gets to the door, he feels like he’s dying.

“Oh no” Hunk says, looking down at how Lance is practically melting down on the floor. “Oh no buddy what happened?” he hurries to help the drunk mess up but it’s no use, he’s like death weight. Hunk decides to come down instead. “What happened to you?” he asks kneeling down next to Lance, not really expecting a reply.

“I dunno what the fuck ‘m doing, Hunk.” Lance waits for Hunk to say something and Hunk waits for Lance to elaborate. So, they stay in silence for a moment.

“What do you mean?” Hunk decides to say.

“ ’m gonna get promoted. They gave me a bunch of shit to do. If I do good I get promt- promoted.”

“Oh that’s great! You’re just celebrating then?” Hunk feels like it’s not as simple as he would like it to be. Lance shifts, trying to stand up.

“No, no, no. You don’t understand.” He was right. Now he’s looking up at Lance, who is barely standing. “I don’t wanna do good. I wanna do terrible. I don’t wanna get promt- pro- ”

“Promoted.”

“That thing. I want them to _fire_ me, Hunk!”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit. I dunno what to do. Help.”

“I don’t know what to do either.” If Lance were sober this could be a real conversation, but Hunk knows better than to give his drunk friend advice on important stuff like this. “Sorry, but I think you have to figure this one out on your own, buddy.” As long as Lance doesn't drunkenly quit his job, he should be fine. Hunk just wants to make sure that he doesn't do something he might regret tomorrow.

“Please Hunk, just tell me what to do. ‘M too drunk and tired to think on my own. My life literally depends on it.”

“Which is why _you_ have to decide, Lance. Preferably when you’re sober, but-”

Hunk falls silent because Lance looks dumbfounded, like someone just told him all the secrets of the universe. He stares at the wall behind Hunk for way too long. Finally, he gets out of trance and hits his chest with a fist. With the gravest expression Hunk has ever seen on him he says “that’s deep, man".

“It’s not that deep, you're just drunk."

"Yeaahh you're probably right." Lance says sliding down the wall.

Hunk makes a mental note to check on Lance tomorrow as he watches his best friend fall asleep on the floor. He sighs as he gets up to get aspirins and a blanket.

//

Lance McClain wakes up in the floor of what he thinks is his apartment feeling like a raisin. His eyes are screaming for some hydration, his lips feel like a desert and he’s pretty sure his legs turned into bricks overnight. Yeah, he’s definitely hungover. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this, but he knows it was a long time ago. The brief moment of reflection causes his brain to feel like it’s expanding. _I’m not drinking again_ , he thinks to himself, knowing full well that it’s possible because he has done it before. Well, until yesterday he had.

He turns his head and finds a glass of water with some aspirins begging to be taken. So he does. It does nothing, obviously, but he’s already feeling better thanks to the small amount of water that he puts in his body. But then the doorbell rings and it sounds like fucking sirens. He tries to remember if he was supposed to be expecting someone, but nothing comes to mind. His brain expands a little more. And when the doorbell rings again, he asks God to take him now.  He doesn’t answer. Lance curses.

“Coming!” he says, and his voice comes out low and hoarse and inexorably irritated. He sees through the peephole. It’s Hunk. A sigh of relief escapes his lips as he opens the door. “Hunk? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the restaurant?” Lance says while yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Sneaked out for a bit. They can handle it” he says, walking into the apartment. “So, how are you feeling?”

"Like death.” Hunk believes him wholeheartedly. The boy’s a hot mess. He still has his work clothes on, only his tie is hanging loosely around his neck and his shirt is all wrinkly and it drapes around him like a tablecloth. His belt is halfway undone, and his pants hang low on his hips.  His normally plump and moisturized lips look chapped and his once shiny skin is looking dry and dull. Although Hunk would never tell him that.

He chuckled "Yeah, I figured, you were pretty drunk last night. So… I brought you some chicken soup! Homemade, family recipe. Only the best chicken soup in the whole world, y’know, no biggie." He has a big sympathetic smile plastered on his chubby cheeks and _ugh_ Lance love his best friend so much, it’s insane. The hangover symptoms go away temporarily and he gets crushed with a wave of warmth and a sensation of safety and comfort that he can never get enough of.

“Hunk, you absolute sweetheart. You really didn’t have to do this. _Fuck_ , I love you man.” He takes the plastic container from Hunk’s hands and points towards it with his head “I’m going to _devour_ this soup.” And Lance will never understand why there are some people that don’t like hugs, because he wants nothing more than to squeeze Hunk as hard as he can with his skinny arms. So he lays the soup on the coffee table and throws himself at Hunk because who’s going to tell him not to.

While being crushed, Hunk manages to say “It was nothing, really.” But when that results in being squeezed harder, he chokes out “I can’t breathe.” and that’s when Lance breaks the hug, not because Hunk said he was dying, but because his arms were tired. Not that he would ever say that out loud.  

“I should get going, gotta head back to the restaurant. I’ll pray for your recovery.”

“Thank you, good man.”

Hunk’s already outside of the apartment when he suddenly turns around and stops the door with one hand. “And Lance? Think about your job. Carefully. And sober.” His serious expression quickly turns into a casual one. He shoots him one final smile, “Take care” and closes the door on his way out.

Lance stares blankly at the dark wood in front of him, his eyes feeling tired and his head pounding again.

“Oh, yeah. That’s a thing.”

//

Lance McClain doesn’t live up to his words. It turns out that Hunk’s soup, while absolutely fucking delicious, is impossible for him to finish. The amount of chicken soup that fits in a Tupperware is quite deceiving. Sighing, he puts the container in his fridge. He can finish it tomorrow.  

He lets himself flop down onto his couch and puts his feet on the coffee table. If he were at home, he would be dead by now. The remote control is on the TV stand and Lance grunts loudly. He stands up, reluctantly, and grabs it. And just as he’s about to get comfortable again, Blue apparently decides it’s _cute_ to lay right in front of the TV that is nearly as small as she is.

“C’mon baby, please let me have this.” She looks at him directly and then has the _audacity_ to extend her front paws and lay down completely. Lance lets out an exasperated sigh, feeling too tired to move her but also knowing that she is going to fall asleep _right there_. He turns the TV off, knowing that he should probably get thinking. Maybe Blue is doing him a favor after all.

//

Lance McClain spends the whole day avoiding the inevitable by doing the most mundane and boring things. He takes out the trash, does the dishes, does the laundry, cleans Blue’s litterbox, he even vacuums, for crying out loud. He doesn’t even remember buying a vacuum. So yeah, he does everything he can to keep him busy and avoid thinking about that one big important thing.

The current activity is reorganizing his closet. Which was a terrible idea because he realizes how little of it is clothing that he actually likes, and how much of it is disgusting, plain work attire. And he hates it, he hates it with a burning passion. Part of him is telling him “there’s your answer, stupid”. But another, more rational part of him says “you can’t just quit your job dumbass, you have shit to pay”. Apparently both sides have an affinity for insulting him.

And that’s when it happens.

A piece of paper falls like a feather when Lance pulls a pair of jeans and it lands face down on the floor. He crouches and he turns it around carefully, it’s clear by the texture that it’s a photo. Just by seeing one little corner of it, Lance knows what photo this is. When he turns it around completely, he confirms his theory. It’s that one picture he has of him with his mom on the beach, taken before he left for college. They’re both smiling widely, and he has an arm around his mom, who looks shorter than she actually is next to him. It’s a sweet photo. He remembers carrying it everywhere when he first moved out.

“Huh, I guess I forgot I had this.”

Lance feels a dagger go straight to his heart. He knows somewhere along the line he lost his drive, his motivation. Now he’s far from happy and misses his family so much that just looking at this photo makes him want to bawl his eyes out. And the fact that he didn’t even remember he had it, just- he feels so crappy right now. To think that his shitty job is what’s been keeping him from remembering his own family makes him hate it even more.

Lance looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape. “I hate my job” he whispers, as if someone might catch him saying it when he’s not supposed to.  “I hate my job. I hate it so much. What the _fuck_.” Slowly but surely he starts raising his voice. “I fucking hate my job. Fuck that shit company.” And then he starts screaming. “AND FUCK THAT UGLY ASS OFFICE THAT HAS NO FUCKING AC TOO. EVEN THE COFFEE IS SHIT. EVERYTHING IN THAT PLACE IS SHIT. CORPORATE PIECE OF CAPITALIST _SHIT_.”

He practically collapses on the ground, next to the picture that he left on the floor before he started raging. He looks at the way his mom is smiling, the way the sand looks like glitter, how blue the water is, how there are no clouds in the sky, the bright red of his surfing board. He looks at how happy he is in that photo.

And suddenly, he knows what to do.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok look i now it's a little slow in the beginning but i promise it gets better. there's keith in this one!! yess let the slow burn begin. references to the song 'cigarette daydreams' ahead.

It’s a seemingly ordinary day for Lance McClain. He gets out of bed and doesn’t bother changing. He walks lazily to the kitchen, almost without even looking. He opens a cabinet and pulls out a box of his favorite cereal. He opens the cabinet next to it and pulls out his favorite bowl. He pours his favorite cereal into his favorite bowl with a loud and exaggerated yawn. He hums contently, pleased with the amount of cereal that came out of the box. He takes a step to the side and is now facing the fridge. He opens it and shivers a little when the cold air hits him. He scans the messy interior, looking for his favorite chocolate milk. He spots the carton behind the soup leftovers from yesterday. He moves the plastic container and reaches for the milk. He unscrews the cap, feeling warm and fuzzy with anticipation. He tilts the carton and pours it into his cereal. Yes, it’s a seemingly ordinary day for Lance McClain.

He is sitting in front of his small TV, feet on the coffee table and back pressed against the cushions. An empty bowl lies right next to his elbow. He stares at the screen, barely registering anything that’s happening in the movie. He’s watched it a million times anyway. Taking a deep breath, he lifts his lazy arm and turns the TV off.

Blue meows for his attention and Lance immediately pets her. She purrs. “Aw, baby I’m sorry I’m leaving you. But it’ll only be a couple of days. Plus, you’ll be with Allura! Her house is _huge,_ and her cats love you. You’ll have a great time, I promise.” and then Blue is being squeezed like Hunk was yesterday. Lance rubs his face against her like she does to him sometimes. She closes her eyes and rubs back. _God_ , he loves that cat.

“Okay, I should probably get going if I wanna get there while there’s still daylight. But maybe I should get changed first.”

//

“Say hi to Mercedes for me. And Miguel. And Ray. And Claudia. And-” Lance chuckles.

“Yes, yes I’ll say hi to all of them for you. Look,” his elbow is hooked over the window sill and he’s holding a key by the loop of the keychain. Hunk is forced to step back when Lance suddenly flicks his wrist and the key almost goes flying. He rolls his eyes as he takes one step towards the car, _again_. “This is a spare key for my apartment- for emergencies _only_. I don’t know exactly what kind of emergency could happen while I’m gone but still, here.”

Hunk grabs the key. “Don’t trash my apartment.”

 “Can’t promise anything.”

“Bye Hunk! Be back in two weeks! Don’t miss me too much!” he shouts as he drives away from his apartment complex, slowly closing his window because _fuck_ it’s cold.

“I won’t!” is the last thing Lance hears before he is completely encapsulated in his car with the heater on. He has a long drive ahead of him, so he might as well be as comfortable as he possibly can. However, his fingers are as cold if not colder than they were outside, and he can’t even feel his toes. He turns the heat up, but his hands are not thawing. His fingers shake slightly as he turns the dial to the right one more time, and it’s not because he’s cold.

“Calm down, don’t be dramatic about this. You’re just visiting.” he clutches the steering wheel, feeling the cold leather pressing against his fingers and then returning to its original shape when he stops. He tries to untense his shoulders, cracking his neck in the process. “Just be cool about it. You had some vacation time and so you took it. Simple as that.”  

The lump in his throat makes its presence clear. It overshadows the excitement over seeing his family and he wants it to go away so, so badly. It’s infuriating because he _knows,_ in the bottom of his heart _,_ that his family will never stop loving him no matter what, and yet he still wonders what their disappointed faces would look like if he told them that he’s considering quitting his job.

//

Lance makes many stops. To pump gas, to pee, to eat, to breathe, to stretch his legs out. Every time he gets out of the car the weather feels warmer and warmer. It’s reassuring.

He makes what he hopes is the last stop of the night at a gas station to get a bottle of water. All that avoiding drinking water so that he doesn’t have to pee as much left him a little dehydrated. He walks into the convenience store and the change of lighting is harsh on his eyes. It takes him back to his senior year of high school and all the times he walked into a convenience store just like this one to buy booze. And occasionally late-night snacks. But mostly booze. He remembers coming here with a group of friends, pumped for whatever party they were going to, and picking out the most disgusting, cheap liquor they could find. _Whatever happened to them?_ he wonders. Obviously, Hunk lives in the city with him and so does Allura, who works at that piece of shit company that his father’s friend owns. But he doesn’t know a thing about the others.

“Thanks” the coins that falls into his hand are cold. The cashier doesn’t even look up and it makes him think that all those times he forced Hunk to checkout alcohol because he “looked older” were in vain.

After a look around the store to reminisce and sigh dramatically or whatever, Lance decides that he no longer has business here. The entry doorbell chimes when he walks out of the store and “Oh shit” it’s raining. While sprinting to his car, Lance mutters something along the lines of “the weather just sucks everywhere”.

//

It only takes Lance twelve songs and a lot of complaining about having to wash his car to get to the sign that welcomes him to his hometown.

Seeing every store, every house, every tree that still looks like it did when he left- it fills him with relief. But seeing every restaurant, coffee shop or bench that’s not there anymore makes him feel all gloomy and downright miserable with a hint of guilt. Guilt because he wasn’t here when maybe he should have.

The route to his house is engraved in his brain and his muscles know exactly what to do and when to do it. He may or may not take specific detours just to pass by his high school and something sinks when he realizes that they repainted the whole building. The once bright colors are now a boring shade of maroon. “Why would they do that.” he breathes out, making a final turn before his house appears in his field of vision.

Thank God, they didn’t repaint his house. The white paint looks a little more worn-out now, but it doesn’t look old. It looks vintagey. He pulls up next to where his father’s rusty pick-up would be in the driveway and turns the car off. The rain is growing heavier by the minute, but Lance doesn’t really care about his car getting all dirty anymore. The only thing he cares about is seeing the look on his mom’s face when he surprises her with his own presence. He should have brought her flowers or something.

“Welp, it’s too late now.” he says getting out of the car and has to retain himself from literally running to the front door. As he goes to ring the doorbell, the lump in his throat makes its way back up. He pushes it down and presses the button. The familiar sound rings in his ears, it’s a much more pleasant doorbell than the one he has at his apartment.

He twiddles his thumbs as he waits for someone to open the door. It’s weird not having a key anymore, like he’s only a guest.

“Lance? What are you- OH MY GOD” she screeches as her older brother, who is laughing loudly, picks her up and spins her around. Lance almost slips because of the wet grass and they nearly fall tumbling down. “Put me down! Lance, it’s raining! I swear to- MOM! Mom save me!”

He stops spinning and pulls back to look up at his sister. She’s definitely heavier than she was the last time they did this, and his arms are getting sore, but he decides to wait for the next time she asks to be put down. “You’ve grown so much since the last time you visited. What are you now, like 9?” he laughs. His sister sends him a death glare.

“Ha, ha. I’m 14, _pendejo_. Put. Me. Down.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez.” Silently thanking god, he puts her sister down carefully onto the wet lawn. Now he’s staring _down_ at her. There are more freckles in her tan cheeks and her hair is a lighter, honey color. All of this is the sun’s doing.

They share a moment in silence, just taking in each other’s presence.

“You’re old now.”

Lance opens his mouth in utter, dramatic shock and his sister laughs hysterically at him. “Um, excuse _you_. I’m not old, I’ve just been on this planet for longer than you have.” She snorts.

It suddenly gets darker and they both almost get whiplash from turning their heads towards the door. And it feels exactly like it did when him and his siblings would do something they were not supposed to and got caught red-handed by the stern glare of their mother. She’s standing by the doorframe, looking worried and like she just ran a marathon. Lance can tell that she wants to lean on the wall but doesn’t because _her hands are probably dirty, and the walls are white_. She’s wearing an orange apron that’s practically as old as Lance. Just by looking at the vibrant color he can smell the _pudín de pan_ that his mom would always make for the entire family. He supposes this is what they call synesthesia, but the smell is so vivid that maybe he’s just insane.

Or he’s not insane and his mom is actually making _pudín de pan_.

“CLAUDIA WHAT HAPPEN- Lance? Oh my god is that you?” Her expression is priceless.

“Hi _ma_.” He raises his hand in the air with hesitation and gives her sheepish smile, bracing himself because he’s about to receive one of _those_ hugs.

“Ouch”. There it is.

His mom’s hair smells like the cheap shampoo she buys for herself. It’s actually a very generic scent, but for Lance it’s his mother’s and hers only. The smell of laundry detergent lingers in the air even when she pulls back. They still use the same one. Lance sighs, _it smells like home._

“ _Qué_ \- what are you- why did-” she stops. “Why are you standing out in the pouring rain? You’re dripping wet, you’re gonna get sick!”

Lance giggles, not taking the reprimanding words seriously. Surely his mother doesn’t really think he’s going to-

“uACHooO.” _Great_. His mother chuckles, shaking her head.

“25 years old and still a big baby” she says fondly. “Come in, I’ll make you a cup of tea and you can tell me what on earth I did to deserve a visit from my son” she puts an arm around her son and guides him inside.

//

It’s getting dark outside and it’s still raining. Lance could burst open at any second. He’s never had this much _pudín de pan_. Which is saying a lot because he ate a lot of _pudín de pan_ in his lifetime. It hurts to breathe.

They’ve talked about pretty much everything and everyone. Mostly everyone. Who married their high school sweetheart, who had way too many kids, who dropped out of college, who came out of the closet, who opened their own business, who grew up into an awful person. You name it, they’ve talked about it. Lance is secretly biting his metaphorical nails waiting for his mom or his sister to say that one of his old friends turned out to be a serial killer. He bets his bottom dollar it’s Matt.

“But wait, you still haven’t told us why you decided to come. And don’t get me wrong, you can stay for as long as you want, but- why now?”

He puts his mug down and it makes a clinking sound. He goes over what he’s going to say in his head. Oh boy, here we go.

“You know how I’ve been working my ass off ever since I graduated?” they nod. “Well, turns out I’ve had paid leave all of these years! And they just, like, never told me. I just thought they were being nice and paying me extra cash for no reason. I never knew you could take a vacation instead.” It’s all true. That company really does suck ass.

“They should have taught you that in college.”

“Yes, Claudia. They really should have.” Lance leans back on his chair, feeling his shoulders relax and his heartbeat steady. “So yeah, that happened and now I’m here.” He’s out of the woods for now.

“They should have told you way back… but you’re here now and that’s all that matters.” She reaches for his hand and gives it a firm squeeze. “Oooh guess who’s in jail.” His mom loves gossiping a little too much.  

“Steve?”

“Rolo.”

“No way! What did he do?”

“Apparently he tried to sell a stolen car to a police officer.” Claudia snorts.

Lance scrunches up his nose. “Oh my god. Well, that does sound like him” he says nodding and they nod back. “Woah I can’t believe he’s actually in jail. Now I feel kinda bad for voting him most likely to end up in prison.”

Claudia bursts out laughing, slapping the table and wiping imaginary tears. “Oh man, and to think Nyma dumped you for _that_. Bitch had it coming.” Lance almost chokes on his tea.

“Claudia!”

“What? She is a bitch.”

“She has a point, mom.”

She takes a deep breath, pretending like she’s wondering what she did wrong when raising her kids, but mid-inhale she can’t contain it anymore and she cracks up. And then they’re all howling and screaming.

“Oh Jesus” Claudia says while wiping real tears this time. “Hey mom, tell him about Keith.”

He freezes. It’s happening. This is the part where he’s told that he was friends with a psychopath.

“Remember your friend Keith? With the mullet?” his mom gestures to an imaginary mullet in her head. He nods frantically.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, I remember. Wha- what about him?”

And she must see the terrified look on his face because she’s quick to reassure him “Oh no, no, nothing bad. Just that he’s helping out at the workshop, that’s all. He works there, actually.”

Huh, that’s _different_.

“He does? For how long?”

“Uh, like two years maybe.”

Cool, cool, cool. He doesn’t feel any jealousy at all.

“Oh. And he like… comes here often?”

“We treat him to dinner sometimes.” She looks at her watch. “If you go over there now you might catch him. Oh, and you can surprise your father!”

Does he want to? He hasn’t seen the guy in years, what if he doesn’t remember him? But surprising his dad does sound like fun. Mmmm. Besides, it’ll be kind of impossible for Keith not to remember him if he’s been working with his father and hanging out with his family. Surely they talk about him sometimes. Right?

“Nope, you can’t ponder, you have to go. Ileftmytextbookthereandineeditforschooltomorrow. Lance, let’s go.”  Claudia is already yanking at his sleeve with a look that says ‘get up now and ask questions later’. So he does.

“Okay I guess I’m doing this bye mom!”

//

“Really? Dad wouldn’t bring it for you?”

“Nope, he says it’s happened way too many times and that I need to be responsible and yada yada yada.”

“Oh, wow that’s tough. Not a word about this then.” And they walk into the workshop.

It looks very different. In a good way. It’s less cluttered and much, much cleaner. Everything is organized in big containers with tags and there’s even a counter now. With a computer. He wonders if Keith is the one who uses it because he knows for a fact that his dad will never do. There seems to be no one around, which is weird because all the lights are on and the door says ‘open’. But just as he’s thinking that, a tall, broad figure emerges from the backroom. Right, the door chime. Like in the convenience store.

Claudia is walking toward the door with a heavy book in her hand. “I’ll be in the car. Oh, hi Keith.”

Wait- what? Is this, like, another Keith that works here or something? Because the Keith he remembers was short and skinny, not all big and muscular. This is most definitely not okay. There goes another thing that’s changed since he left.

“Hi Claudia. Can I help yo-” Keith is squinting at Lance, probably wondering if he’s gone mad. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that’s maybe a size too small for him and a pair of red track pants. He looks good, objectively. “Lance McClain?”

“The one and only.” he says walking toward him. He goes for the good old Bro Hug but touching him feels awkward beyond belief. Like he’s invading his personal space and he doesn’t have the friend card to justify it.

“What are you doing here?” Keith says when they pull back. “It’s been forever.”

“Just visiting.” Lance scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Figuring some stuff out.”

“Sounds like fun.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He gestures toward it “Wanna head out for a smoke?”

“You smoke now? I leave for a couple of years and _this_ is what I miss. Yeah sure, lead the way.”

Keith guides him to the back door and then they’re outside, where it’s still raining. They take cover under the door canopy. He hands Lance a cigarette and pulls a lighter out of his pocket while he places it between his lips. Keith brings the lighter close to the cigarette and lights it. Lance takes a drag.

“I don’t know why I started.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Smoking. I don’t know why I started.” He takes a long drag. “Boredom I guess. Nothing ever happens here, just- same ol’ same ol’.” Keith speaks while exhaling smoke and Lance takes it as a sign of expertise.

“Believe it or not, I miss that. The city can be _too_ hectic sometimes.” He flicks his cigarette.

“Is that why you’re here?” Keith turns to look at him. His eyes shine under the fluorescent light and his skin looks even paler. Does the sun run away from him?

Lance looks at the drops of rain dripping from the canopy. Should he tell him? It’s not like he cares anyway, he’s probably just curious. Plus, it would be nice having someone to talk to and not have to pretend.

“I mean, sort of? I kind of hate my job.” he scrunches up his nose.

“So quit.” Keith shrugs.

Lance shakes his head, amused at how much Keith _hasn’t_ actually changed. “It’s not that simple.”

Keith takes another drag “If you say so.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith feels a little more strongly about nostalgia than lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i don't need validation i just want people to read my trash  
> also me: *checks obsessively if anyone left kudos or commented*
> 
> hii it's me from my grave. school is really sucking the life out of me. but anyway what's new.  
> so i tried playing with time jumps or skips or whatever they're called. if you feel like it's too much or it feels forced, please please let me know. i also tried alternating povs, but i think the story will definitely revolve around lance. 
> 
> enjoy!! and thanks for reading!!

This is weird. This is _so_ weird. Just minutes ago, he didn’t even _think_ about Lance McClain for a split second. And now he’s sitting next to Keith, talking lively about something to do with Hunk. Or was it his cat? He’s been too busy trying to wrap his head around what is happening right now to actually register whatever Lance is saying.

Suddenly, Lance stops talking and his eyes widen. He closes them and facepalms. “My dad. I was supposed to surprise my dad and, like, _say hi_. Y’know, the kind of stuff a decent son would do? I can’t believe I completely forgot- woah I’m _awful_.”

Keith chuckles “Don’t worry, he went out anyway, so you wouldn’t have found him even if you remembered.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He snorts. “He left like half an hour ago, it shouldn’t take him long to get back.” Keith smashes the cigarette butt against the floor and decides it’s probably best to go back inside.

“Alright, I guess I’ll wait here then.”

Never mind.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I just have to tell Claudia that this will take a little longer than planned” he says, already typing his words into a message. Keith watches his fingers move swiftly along the keyboard. Lance puts his phone back in his pocket. “Hey, how’s Shiro doing?”

Keith’s face lights up. “You’re not going to believe this.” He takes a deep breath with his eyes closed just to be dramatic. “He’s getting _married_. Like married-married. With the ceremony and all. It’s insanity.”

Lance’s expression remains unchanged. “You’re kidding.”

“I swear I’m not” he chuckles.

Lance squints. “Shiro. I’m-married-to-my-work-Shiro. Getting married… to a person? Sounds sketchy” he says with a deadpan, and a small smile creeps its way into Keith’s face.

“Dude, I _know_. When he gave me the big news I dead ass told him to stop trying to prank me.” Lance starts laughing uncontrollably and Keith stares at him wondering one more time what the _hell_ happened in the last 15 minutes and if this is actually happening. He watches Lance’s head tilt backwards slightly and his chest go up and down as he laughs. “B-but yeah, it’s true.”

“Oh sweet Jesus. Shiro getting married will break the balance of the universe.” Lance shakes his head disapprovingly. “But oh well, I’m happy for him, of course. Who’s the lucky fella?”

“Some Adam guy he met at college. You don’t know him.” Keith looks at the cigarette butt, his hands, and then at Lance. “Hey, uh… how long are you staying?” he asks tentatively.

“Two weeks… why?”

Keith is staring at his hands again, suddenly fascinated by them. _He’s probably going to regret this_. “Do you… maybe want to uh… come to- come to the wedding?”

The expression in Lance’s face makes him think that yup, he was right. Who the hell invites someone to their brother’s wedding _without even asking him_? (Keith knows for a fact that Shiro has a soft spot for Lance and would never say no, but still. He should have at least pretended not to know that and _ask Shiro goddammit_ ). And to make matters worse, Lance literally disappears for years and when he reappears for two minutes, bam! He’s hit with an invitation from someone he probably barely remembers to the wedding of someone he probably remembers even _less_. Jesus Christ. Lance must be so weirded ou-

“Yeah, yeah for sure! When is it?” he has the widest smile on his face. Keith is speechless. Which is why he’s relieved when it doesn’t take long for Lance to speak again. “Wait. Are you sure I can just- like, creep into the guest list? Aren’t weddings like planned to the T around the number of guests and stuff?”

Keith feels guilty for putting Lance in the position where he has to ask that. Ugh, why is he so awkward? He should have clarified that _before_ inviting him.

“Oh no. Not this one. They didn’t hire a wedding planner. Adam wanted to do everything on his own.”

“I don’t like him.”

//

“You _what_?”

Oh no.

“Okay, I shouldn’t have invited him. Got it.”

“Adam, it’s not that big of a deal. We just have to put one more chair. That’s literally it.”

“No, that’s not _literally it_! The rows are all complete, there’s nowhere to put one more chair! I mean unless you want the layout to look all asymmetric, but why would you _ever_ want that?”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was stupid, and I made a mistake. I’ll just tell Lance that-” Keith stops to think. _Shit_ , he really screwed up on this one.

“What? That he’s not invited anymore? We’re not doing that, we’re not assholes.” Adam plops onto a chair next to the dining table. He buries his face in his hands and takes a deep breath. Keith and Shiro, who are standing awkwardly apart from one another in the living room, exchange concerned looks. Adam rubs his face in exasperation before saying “I’m sorry I yelled at you two. All this planning is getting the worst of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I get it. Besides, I’m the one who messed up so I’m the one who should be apologizing. _Again_.” Keith tries to sound as sincere as possible, and even tries offering him a small smile.  

Shiro walks across the living room to get to Adam. “Babe, you should probably go to bed. You’ve been staying up late every night for the past week. You need the sleep.” He massages his fiancé’s shoulders. “And you’re all tensed up.” Adam easies into the touch.

“Mmm yeah you’re right… maybe I should.” Adam closes his eyes and his head starts falling to the side- and then he’s sleeping.

Keith crosses his arms at what he’s seeing. “ _Shiro_. Why is he so tired? Have you not been helping at all?” he whispers.

Shiro raises his arms in a declaration of innocence. “Trust me, I tried. He won’t let me. And I’ve told him that I just want to _marry_ him, I don’t care about the ceremony.” He rubs the back of his neck making a grimace of regret. “Yeah, that was a huge mistake. I slept on the couch that night.”

//

Work is extremely boring the next day and Keith finds himself remembering the conversation he had with Lance more times than he’s willing to admit. And the guilt is eating him alive.

“Pliers, please.”

“Here.”

Keith’s mind is going into overdrive. Why did he have to invite him?

“3/8 ratchet.”

It was weird in every possible way- and inconvenient. Now Adam is practically dying of stress over that one chair and it’s all his fault. No but _seriously_ , what was he thinking?

“Wrench.”

Keith feels like a _fool_ trying to trick himself by asking _‘why’_. He _knows_ why he did it, but he won’t admit it to himself out of embarrassment. He knows that the real reason why he spontaneously invited Lance to the wedding is because he was foolish enough to think that he _could_. For a moment there, it felt like they were in high school again. Best friends and all, hanging out at the workshop and saying stupid shit because they were teenagers.  So, it was just a natural thing that Lance would tag along in everything he did. Including his brother’s wedding. Keith knows that he jumped at the first opportunity to take things back to the way they were. But the truth is that he can’t go back in time, he can only pretend. And it hurts.

“Keith, the wrench.”

“Sorry, here.” Sorry, I just realized I’m an emotional _idiot_.

Raymond straightens up from the uncomfortable position he was in, hunched over the opened hood of the car. He puts his hands behind his back. “So,” he says as he cracks his spine “Shiro’s wedding’s coming up. How’s he holding up?”

“Oh he’s just fine. Adam, on the other hand…” Shiro told him this morning that Adam forgot that the wedding he was planning was _his_ wedding. He started crying, saying that he wants to get married too and asking his _fiancé_ ‘when the fuck are you planning on proposing?’. This went on until he saw a proposal picture they have framed in the living room and apologized to Shiro. “…not so much.”

“I still don’t understand why they didn’t hire Shay.”

“Neither do I, sir. Neither do I.”

The sound of the door chime interrupts their little chat. Keith grunts mentally. Great, _more_ work. Like they don’t have a million things to do already. But when he turns around he finds out that it’s not more work- it’s Lance.

“You guys are gonna have to take a break because I’ve got apple pie and _priorities_ , right?” he says as he walks across the room and points to the paper bag he’s carrying. He smiles brightly.

Raymond chuckles and shakes his head fondly. “Your mother sure is enjoying baking all your favorites.” He sighs. “But yeah, we _should_ take a break. We’ve been working nonstop all morning. Right Keith?”

He’s caught off guard because there’s that fake sensation that nothing has changed again. And he _hates_ it. A little needle is poking at his heart rapidly but softly, and it’s gentle somehow. It’s warm, but painful. It’s comforting, but wounding. It makes him feel full, yet hollow. He wouldn’t know how to describe it if you asked him but, yeah. That’s what he feels.

He barely manages to hum in agreement and nod slightly.

“Alright then let’s go.” Lance says lively and starts walking toward the backroom. He turns around with an accusing finger “But wash your hands first.”

Raymond laughs earnestly, and Lance disappears behind the door. The needle is still doing its thing.  

Keith’s phone rings in his pocket. He takes it out. It’s Shiro. “Shiro. What is it?”

“Good news! Arianne called, she’s not coming to the wedding.”

“Okay… how is that- Oh!.” A wave of relief washes over him.

“Yeah, aha. Adam’s safe, that chair can’t hurt him anymore. Now you can stop beating yourself up about it.”

Keith stays silent. Lance pokes his head around the door.

“Hey, Keith if you don’t hurry up there won’t be any pie left!”

“Uh, I’ll be there in a minute.” he replies, and Lance goes back into the room.

“Was that Lance?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah, he brought us some homemade pie so we’re taking a break.”

“I wanna see him! He’s like the younger brother I never had.”

“You bitch.”

Shiro laughs loudly. “No, but seriously, I wanna see him. Can you ask him if he can come over tonight? Or, you know what? Just pass him the phone. Wow that was kind of obvious.”

“Sure, hang on a second.”

Keith walks into the backroom and he finds Lance and his father eating in silence. He can tell that the pie is _really good_ just by looking at their faces. He shouldn’t be interrupting this religious experience.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?” He says with his mouth full of pie and crumbs all over his face.

Keith smiles unconsciously and hands him his cellphone. “It’s Shiro, he wants to talk to you.” Lance chews faster as he reaches for the phone.

He’s still chewing with the phone in his hand. He only puts it to his ear once he’s done. “Shiro? Woah I can’t believe…”

Keith takes a seat as their conversation  fades away. The pie looks delicious. He _knows_ it’s delicious, he had it last week. And countless times before that.   

“Are you okay?” Raymond is handing him a fork with a worried look. “You seem a little out of it.”

He takes the plastic fork, thanking him. “I’m fine. I’m just a little tired.” The pie crumbles when he stabs it lazily. Every time he tries picking it up with the fork it just further falls apart.

“A spoon would have done a better job.”

Keith chuckles “Yeah.”

//

Lance wakes up in a _panic_. His alarm didn’t go off (is what he tells himself every time he forgets to set it), and now he’s probably late to work. His eyes shoot open and he scans the bedside table looking for his phone. And sure enough, it’s there. But that lamp isn’t his metal lamp. And that’s not his bedside table. And those are the glow in the dark stars he missed. And the realization is soothing. He’s at home.

Getting out of bed is easy when there’s nothing he wants to avoid doing during the day. He leaves his room and the house smells like apple pie. _Surely not._ She just made _pudín de pan_ yesterday. And now she’s baking apple pie? Madness. Well, not that he’s complaining.

He walks down the stairs, pausing to look at the family photos that decorate the wall. Making a mental note to ask his mom for a copy of them, he gets to the first floor. Lance _gravitates_ toward the kitchen and the first thing he sees is the orange apron.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” The faint sound of the TV reminds him of mornings on a school day, when everyone was in the kitchen at the same time. His mom would put on the news just so that they could see the time and know when they were late. 

“Good morning ma. Apple pie?”

She hums while she cuts the pie into slices. “Wanna bring some to your dad and Keith? I think he has a shift right now.”

Lance doesn’t have anything better to do. “Yeah, sure.” Besides, it was nice talking to Keith last night. “Oh I forgot to tell you. Keith invited me to Shiro’s wedding. Which was kind of weird because it’s not _his_ wedding but he said it was fine.”

“That’s so nice of him! Wait- you said yes right?”

“Why would I say no?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t it a little bit awkward?” She scrunches up her nose.

Lance isn’t quite following. “What is?”

His mom gestures with her hands to indicate the vagueness of it all “You know. Talking to people you used to be so close with. Let alone go to their wedding.”

He takes a minute to collect his thoughts. “It’s not really awkward, because we’re both on the same page. But it _is_ a little sad.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Sad?”

“Yeah, like nostalgic. It’s _bittersweet_ cause you’re happy to be talking about your memories and all but you also realize that that’s all they’ll ever be. Memories. And that you’ll probably not gonna get that closeness you had back. So then you get a little sad that time is passing by and you can’t do anything about it. And- yeah it’s _sad_.”

At a loss of words, she settles for nodding, but her expression says a lot more.

//

Shiro made the terrible mistake of telling Mr. and Mrs. Kogane that Lance was coming over to his house. They, of course, wasted no time before deciding that they were all going to meet at their house instead.

He’s now sitting at the dining table with the whole family and honestly, he feels like an intruder. Adam is also here and exudes sleep deprivation and ‘I don’t want to be here at all’ vibes. The house looks exactly like it did the last time he was here and, clearly, this is not going to help with all that nostalgic sadness he’s been feeling lately. But he doesn’t really care anymore, he’s pretty much existing in a state of complete disassociation at this point. He could very well be dreaming right now.

He wonders if _Keith,_ who has his family, his childhood home, his high school, his friends, all within arm’s reach, has ever felt nostalgic.

Lance dismisses the thought. _Probably not_.


	4. update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i suck

hi everyone.

i'm so sorry i haven't updated this. i started writing while i was on vacation from school, and i whipped out 3 chapters in 3 days because i knew i wouldn't have much free time when school started again. but boy did i overestimate the time i _would_ have. my school is demanding like that. please, PLEASE don't forget about this story. i have vacation next week. i will update, i promise. please bear with me.

when i started writing this i was really excited to share it, even though i never thought people would read it, let alone enjoy it. but then they actually did!! i die a little every time someone leaves kudos or comments or subscribes or even bookmarks. i guess what i'm trying to say here is thank you so much for reading. i know this is tiny compared to other works on this site, but it's really important to me.

so thank you so much.


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